


Cleaning Day and Lingerie

by enjolrazzledazzle



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Lingerie, M/M, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7637833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrazzledazzle/pseuds/enjolrazzledazzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoria's Secret is the ultimate match maker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleaning Day and Lingerie

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this artisanal, handcrafted gay porn, made locally.

Combeferre knew Courfeyrac better than most people. Well. Better than anyone if he was being honest. He knew his favorite color (anything sparkly). He knew how he took his coffee (more sugar than actual coffee). And he knew that he didn't have the best organization skills.

They met in college as roommates. Courfeyrac was bright-eyed and charming, shaking Combeferre’s hand and kissing both of his cheeks.

“I'm Courfeyrac! You must be Combeferre! I've already thoroughly stalked you so there's no need for formalities but I assume you haven't also taken the liberty of learning everything about me?”

Combeferre blinked. More than once. An amused smile played on Courfeyrac's lips and Combeferre nodded and came out of the Courfeyrac-induced daze.

“Yes. You can call me ‘Ferre. I'm pre-med but I suppose you already knew that.” He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously.

“Well it looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other, roomie! Lucky for you I've been told I have the best ass below fourteenth street.”

Combeferre was confused again.

“Oh come on! Rent? Don't tell me you've never seen Rent. That's truly a crime. It was like, revolutionary!”

Combeferre shrugged sheepishly. “Tell me about this life changing musical then,” he prompted with a tiny smile.

Courfeyrac did and they watched it together as they unpacked. Combeferre cried a few times but couldn't be embarrassed because Courf was sobbing.

They became fast friends and within a few weeks of cohabitation, the small dorm room had become a mess. Well, Courfeyrac's side made up most of the clutter.

Combeferre wasn't mad really. Annoyed. Fondly exasperated. Courfeyrac only responded with “Look I'm sorry that my mess distracts you but ‘Ferre, there is so much to do in this life and so little time! So why waste it cleaning?”

“To appease your neurotic roommate?”

“I'm growing tired of this conversation. Let's say we make a deal! Every first Saturday of the month is now officially proclaimed ‘Cleaning Day’. I'll make us a contract and everything.”

Combeferre nodded and sighed in relief. So it was settled. Their plan sprung into action.

Combeferre would help Courfeyrac put away clothes that littered the floor. And the bed. And his desk. Courfeyrac would play Motown music and sing badly and dance as he changed sheets.

Months went by, the system worked and their friends teased them mercilessly for their domesticity. But the system kept Combeferre sane and kept Courfeyrac from facing the medical student’s wrath.

The two had become joined at the hip (or wherever the tactile Courfeyrac had decided to latch onto at the moment). Soon that fondness in Combeferre’s bespectacled eyes grew to love, a problem he refused to address.

Years came and went and Courfeyrac and Combeferre found a small two bedroom just on the edge of campus to finish their respective law and medical degrees. And Cleaning Day was rarely missed.

It was the first Saturday of October, a truly miserable day. And a good day to be inside cleaning, Combeferre thought to himself.

Rain tapped against the window and he brought himself to sit up and clumsily put on his glasses. Wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants and an old t-shirt, he made his way to the kitchen.

Dishes and glasses littered the counters but he ignored them for now in favor of making a cup of tea. Part of Courfeyrac's revised contract dictated that bacon and pancakes were required for Cleaning Day when they moved somewhere with a kitchen.

So Combeferre blearily began to make bacon, a sure-fire way of rousing Courfeyrac from his slumber. The man simply could not resist the heavenly smell.

Sure enough, in a few minutes he felt a warm body drape over his back and lean heavily on him.

“Good morning,” Combeferre greeted and Courfeyrac only grunted and hopped onto the counter to the right of the stove.

He was wearing a pair of tight bike shorts with Ryan Gosling’s face all over them and Combeferre had to resist laughing and/or staring.

'Friend friend friend nothing more' he reminded himself and handed Courfeyrac the plate of bacon.

Only when Courfeyrac was filled with pancakes and bacon and coffee did he finally seem like himself.

“‘Ferre it's not fair!” he moaned. “You stuff me with food and won't let me sit long enough to digest! I simply cannot clean today.”

“Courf we have this discussion every month and every month I tell you to go shower and I'll go get your laundry basket. Really, you have a terrible memory,” he teased and gathered their dishes to place in the sink.

Courfeyrac grinned cheekily and skipped off to the bathroom. He sighed, taking in the mess that was their kitchen. 'Courfeyrac's job' he thought and made his way to Courfeyrac's horrifically messy room.

He only shook his head and picked up the laundry basket full of dirty clothes that Courfeyrac had gathered. He was on his way to their washing machine when he saw them.

He stopped in his tracks to set the laundry basket douwn on the couch. Maybe he was imagining things. But no.

Right on top of all of the clothes, something red and lacy peeked out. Combeferre sat down and debated whether he would be awful for snooping. He could hear Courf singing in the shower so he figured, what's the harm?

Hesitantly, he reached out and plucked the garment out of the basket. The panties were completely made of lace and as red as Combeferre's cheeks would be if he was white.

He ran his fingers over the fabric and imagined Courfeyrac wearing them.

He was very, very curious. Combeferre knew these couldn't belong to anyone else. His roommate wasn't seeing anyone at the moment and spent all his free time with ‘Ferre. So who was he wearing these for?

He placed them back in the bin with a shaking hand and was startled at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Courfeyrac was dripping, only a towel offering any modesty. Not that Courf had any to begin with. He grinned at the man sitting on the couch then frowned at his shocked expression.

“What’s up ‘Ferre?” he asked and sat down in an arm chair opposite him.

“Um. I feel I've invaded your privacy,” he replied, his gaze shifting to the floor.

“What privacy? There's nothing I know of that I wouldn't tell you.” Courf laughed but Combeferre only shook his head.

“It’s not my business. I know it's not. But I saw,” he paused to pluck the panties from the laundry basket, “these. And I was… curious. Who you were wearing them for? I know it's rude to ask.”

Courfeyrac's eyes widened in realization. “Oh. I see. Well, to answer your question, no one. Except for myself,” he admitted, smirking.

“I don't think I understand. Would you,” he paused, searching for the words.

“Explain?”

Combeferre nodded.

“I started wearing them during finals. Eponine had bought a pair that were too big for her and I asked if I could have them. They - they felt good. They relieved a little tension and it made me feel like I had a dirty secret. Wearing something frilly and lacy makes me feel confident.” As Courf talked, Combeferre could feel himself growing harder and he crossed his legs obviously.

“Do you wanna see?”

Combeferre gaped and nodded.

Courf plucked the panties from Combeferre's hands and instructed him to close his eyes. Combeferre couldn't believe this was happening but did as he was told.

“Open them,” Courf murmured.

In front of ‘Ferre stood possibly the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Courfeyrac's dark curls were still wet, water dripping down his tan, toned muscles. Courfeyrac went to the gym frequently. It showed.

His green eyes glimmered and the grin on his lips was mischievous. Combeferre knew it was wrong but his eyes traveled up and down his best friend’s body, memorizing each freckle and scar.

He never let himself look. It was wrong and invasive. Courfeyrac was his friend. But now that he was being invited? Now that Courfeyrac was asking him to look, Combeferre was drinking in the sight of him like a man in the desert.

The panties fit snugly and the lace wasn't quite see-through but Combeferre could see the line of Courf’s cock where he was tucked into them.

“I think I understand now,” Combeferre choked out and stood abruptly.

This was too much. He stumbled away to his own room and shut the door with a slam. He was so so turned on and so fucking mad at himself. This was -

His frantic thoughts were cut off by a knock on the door. “Can I come in, ‘Ferre?” Courf asked from outside.

Combeferre took a deep breath, sat on his bed and called out a weak “Come in.”

The door opened and Courfeyrac was still wearing the panties but now he wore a nervous look on that adorable face. Which looked weird and wrong on him. Courfeyrac was always so sure of himself.

He sat next to Combeferre on the bed but left a foot of distance between them. The silence was awkward for the first time in their friendship.

“I'm sorry. I thought… well I don't know what I thought. I was under the impression that you were into that? But I guess I'm wrong so I'm so-” Combeferre cut him off with a laugh.

“You thought right. I am into that. I'm very into that. I just freaked out. Because Courf, if something were to happen between us and I messed it up - messed our friendship up? I don't think I could live with myself. For me, anything we do would be … not casual.”

He steeled himself to admit what he had been thinking for years and looked his best friend right in those emerald eyes.

“I love you, Courfeyrac. I have for a very, very long time.”

A small smile crept onto Courfeyrac's mouth. “Can I tell you something,” he whispered, getting close enough that Combeferre could feel his warm breath.

“What?”

“I love you too.”

And Combeferre finally felt soft lips against his. His hands came up to Courf's face, cradling it as their mouths moved. The kiss was slow and genuine. It was like a million things making sense at once as Courfeyrac sighed into the kiss and gripped Combeferre's waist.

Courf was the one to lead them up the bed, their mouths still moving. He got Combeferre to lie down and moved to straddle his hips.

Combeferre ran his fingers through damp curls and tugged lightly, opening his mouth to let Courfeyrac explore.

The kiss suddenly became hotter, dirtier. Courfeyrac was letting out little whines and Combeferre's long fingers were pressing hard into the other man's hips.

Which he suddenly remembered were covered in lace. He broke the kiss and Courfeyrac only began littering open mouthed kisses up and down his neck.

“God you look good in these,” he groaned, snapping the elastic. Courfeyrac yelped gave him a punishing bite to the collarbone.

“Shirt off. Now,” he ordered and helped Combeferre out of it.

“Where are your manners?” Combeferre gasped when Courfeyrac began sucking and licking at his nipple, tweaking the other with his fingers.

“What are you doing?” he moaned. He was confused but not necessarily complaining.

“I suppose no one’s ever done this for you. Doesn't it feel nice?” he murmured and resumed his sucking.

“Oh my god. Why? I didn't know. How did I not know?” Courfeyrac grinned up at him and pinched harder at one.

“One of my favorite ways to get off. The nipples are very,” he paused to bite down hard at one “sensitive.”

Combeferre flipped them over to cover Courfeyrac's body with his larger one. He ground down onto the other man's lace covered erection and grinned at the reaction it elicited.

“Can I try?” his fingers ghosted over a pink nub.

“Please,” he mewled, arching up into the touch. Combeferre was a fast learner and wasted no time in coaxing both nipples to unbearable hardness, laving his tongue over the right one.

“‘Ferre!” the lawyer gasped.

“Did I hurt you?” Courfeyrac giggled breathlessly.

“Fuck me,” he pleaded, gripping at Combeferre's hair to bring him into a bruising kiss.

Combeferre scrambled away to rid himself of his pants and grab lube and a condom from his dresser.

He turned back to see Courfeyrac spread on his bed, his curls spread out over the pillow, one knee bent.

“You look amazing, love,” he murmured, settling between his thighs.

“You should see yourself.” Courf brought him down for a gentle kiss.

“Are you sure you want this?” Combeferre whispered.

“I've never wanted anything more,” Courf replied. He slipped out of the panties slowly and Combeferre eyed his erection hungrily. He steeled himself and opened the bottle of lube.

Combeferre slicked up his fingers and gripped Courfeyrac's hip as he slid a finger into his tight heat.

Courf spread his legs further and Combeferre took this as a good sign. Pumping the finger in and out, he massaged circles into Courfeyrac's skin.

“More,” Courfeyrac gasped. ‘Ferre looked up to see the way he bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut. He added a finger and moved them faster, getting used to the motion.

When he curled his fingers slightly, Courf let out a moan the neighbors had to have heard.

He couldn't bring himself to care.

“Now. Please, ‘Ferre, please I need-”

Combeferre hushed him and leaned down to thoroughly kiss him, leaving him breathless.

“You don't need to beg, love,” he whispered and tore open the condom packet to slip it on. He added more lube, pumping his cock a few times before guiding the head to rest at Courfeyrac's entrance.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see. See what you do to me,” he ordered and thrust into that tight heat he had imagined so much.

Courfeyrac groaned, his eyes now open and nodded for him to continue.

Combeferre began thrusting in and out, letting him get used to his cock.

“Look I know I - fuck! I know this'll sound cliché - God ‘Ferre! But you're so big. Opening me up, fucking me. I thought about this too. Thought about your cock. But this is so much better. Oh god right there, again.” Filth spewed from those wet, pink lips and Combeferre began to pound into him in earnest.

The sounds of panting and mewling and skin against skin filled the room.

Combeferre made it his mission to hit his prostate as much as possible. And going by the near screams from Courfeyrac, he succeeded.

He gripped the lawyer’s dripping cock and stroked in time with his thrusts.

What really pushed Courfeyrac over the edge was when Combeferre bit down on his nipple without warning.

He fell over the edge, sobbing his release as his come smeared across his stomach and Combeferre's hand.

“‘Ferre,” he gasped, his face slack now. Combeferre stilled and began to pull out. “Keep going.” Combeferre raised an eyebrow. “Come on. Fuck me.”

He couldn’t say no to that. He resumed his thrusting, letting himself go and eating up those little whimpers of overstimulation.

It didn't take long for him to come, biting down on Courfeyrac's neck and thrusting in one last time.

He leaned up to kiss Courfeyrac gently to distract him from the discomfort of him pulling out.

Combeferre rolled to the side, taking in the sight of his roommate.

He looked utterly debauched, come smeared over his stomach, his lips swollen and his legs still spread like they'd forgotten how to move.

“Come here,” Courfeyrac said playfully. They kissed again, their tongues tangling.

“I'll be right back,” Combeferre promised and retrieved a damp hand towel from the bathroom after disposing of the condom.

When he returned, Courfeyrac was still sprawled across the large bed, his eyes barely open. Combeferre had to restrain himself from cooing at the sight.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered and cleaned up the mess created by their release. Courfeyrac hummed in thanks and curled up on his side, letting his eyes travel up and down the doctor’s naked body.

Combeferre tossed the towel aside and settled beside him, curling his arms protectively around his small form.

“I wasn't lying. When I said I thought about you. God, living in that dorm was utter torture,” Courfeyrac giggled and played with the dark hair on the other man's chest.

“Hey it wasn't exactly easy for me either, Mr. Clothes-are-optional. Seriously, how many pairs of tiny shorts do you own?”

Courfeyrac blushed and giggled at this, an unusual display of shyness. “It was for you. I was trying to get you to focus on something other than those textbooks. I had no clue it was working.”

Combeferre gasped and pinned him to the mattress hovering above him. “You fiend! You absolute menace.”

He tickled him mercilessly until both collapsed into a breathless, laughing heap.

“For the record,” Combeferre added from where he was spooning Courf. “I really wouldn't mind if you wore those knickers again.”

“There's a matching bra.”

And that's when round two commenced.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Rent is Love, Rent is Life. 
> 
> 2\. Yes those Ryan Gosling shorts exist and yes I own them. 
> 
> 3\. Hope you enjoyed me being incredibly self-indulgent. Comment what you'd like me to write, I love new ideas.


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